winter's here

The week that was:

When autumn became winter a tiny part of me felt relieved that that thing that I had been dreading had not only arrived, but was one day closer to being over.

The kind people at Harper Collins Australia sent me a copy of Eliza Henry Jones's new book Ache. It's weird, although I've never met Eliza in person I feel like I know her. After I read and fell in love with her first book In the Quiet, my sister Abby introduced us on twitter and over the years we've chatted about all the important things: sock knitting, cable knitting and accidentally knitting two right handed gloves instead of a right and a left - oops. Later I found her on instagram and admired the photos of her horses and farm life on the other side of Melbourne, but in the background I was always hoping for the announcement of her next book.

And lucky for me Eliza came through with the goods. Ache is the story of a family coping with the aftermath of a horrific bushfire that ripped through a mountain community, killing the main character Annie's grandmother, traumatising her young daughter, and threatening her marriage and the stability of the life she has built for herself. Ache takes us on a journey back up into that mountain a year after that fire, where the devastation is still everywhere, the trees are blackened, most of the houses are still in ruins and the once close community is divided and angry.

Eliza'a writing is beautifully descriptive:

The mountains had always been quiet, but it was like the unimaginable noise of the fires had sucked all sound from the mountain along with everything green. There was no sound of clattering leaves in the wind now. There were no birds. No sigh of grass.

Eliza has qualifications in English, psychology and grief, loss and trauma counselling and has completed an honours thesis exploring representations of bushfire trauma in fiction, which makes me trust her with this sensitive subject. I like it that I can believe it when the characters display symptoms that were caused by their experiences with the trauma of surviving a bushfire. Even though it's fiction, it feels real and true and the title Ache feels completely fitting. 

Recently I was talking to my girls about how one of the reasons I love reading so much is because it answers my what if's? For me, living in the middle of a forest makes bushfire a very real threat. Ache takes me into some of those what if places as well as back to February 2009 when a bushfire was coming through our forest towards our house, and at the last minute the wind changed and swept it alongside, 10 meters from our house instead. We were so lucky. No one was hurt, no property was damaged, I'm sure there were wild life deaths but we didn't see them, and our community bonded together to help and support one another. All these years later many of our trees are still blackened, and sometimes I can still smell that charcoal, smokey smell, but the girls were so young they hardly remember it and we've got a story to tell. I hope it's the only one.

The same way In The Quiet has stayed with me over the years, I'm sure Ache will too. Eliza's simple yet dear characters, the calls of the birds, and the way the landscape heals. 

Now that I've read it I guess I'll have to go back to watching her twitter feed and waiting for the release of her third book.

Oh and Eliza I know that I don't know you in real life, but if I did I would totally hug you and congratulate you and tell you that I LOVED it. I loved the cover, the writing, the characters and the story. Yay you, well done. xx

I bought Miss Pepper a couple of the sweetest cat things from my friend Manda's online shop.

We waved our Jazzy off for a week of hiking and camping with her class.

I planted a few more beds of garlic.

Jobbo started building the shelves into the hot-house.

I made a start on the pile of beanies I hope to knit and send off to the ASRC soon with this pattern.

Our organic and local communities lost one of its greats and we mourned the loss. Vale Rod May, you will be missed by many. xx

We drove down to Melbourne to listen to our farmer boy make a speech about questioning the world. About holding onto the fire you felt in your late teens and early twenties and turning it into activism now. He made us name things we are frustrated and angry about and implored us to do something about them. It was awesome.

I bought a new lens for my camera but still haven't taken it out of its box. It's so weird, I've been wanting a 35mm for so long but now that I have one I'm scared I won't like it, or be any good with it. Hopefully next week I'll have something to show you. Fingers crossed.

I listened to Richard Fidlers podcast conversation with Bill Hayes - An unexpected later in life love story, set in New York City - and fell in love with it.

We watched and loved the first season of Billions, have you watched it yet?

And that's me. I messed up the photo a day in May thing in the last few days. One day we weren't here at all and another rained non stop and the sun never came out once. But I enjoyed it when I did it, letting the pictures mostly tell the stories and capturing a month on our farm. (Ahhhhh those poly tunnels are still there!!)

This June I'm hoping to knit some more hats for my pile and send them off to keep some heads warm. I'm hoping to plant some stuff in the hot-house and put the rest of the garlic in the ground. I'd like to fill a sketch book with botanical drawings and maybe branch into paint. And more than anything I hope to catch the sunshine when I can and to keep warm and positive.


Wishing you a wonderful season whether you're just starting to unfurl your leaves and stretch out towards the sun, or drop your leaves and turn inwards to the hearth. May it be productive and nourishing.

I'd love to hear about what it's like where you are, how you're spending your days, what you're reading, watching and listening to.

Lots of love,

Kate xx